


when life gives you demons, make demonade!

by johnshuaa



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Alternate Universe - Hell, Chaos, Demons, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:00:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21614950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnshuaa/pseuds/johnshuaa
Summary: When Donghyuck peers through the carved double doors of the gothic mansion, he nearly has a heart attack, because 1) there’s a human in the safe house, 2) he’s in all pastel, so he can’t possibly be a demon, and 3) he’s really fucking cute.
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Na Jaemin
Comments: 12
Kudos: 147
Collections: ’00 FIC FEST: ROUND ONE





	when life gives you demons, make demonade!

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt #0011
> 
> I honestly have no idea what happened but I went on a tangent somewhere and the plot got lost. Also, this is highkey not aligned with the prompt, so I'm sorry on that part! Enjoy!

Becoming a demon wasn’t exactly what Donghyuck had hoped for after he died. He had lived a simple life, having gone to college nearby, following the legacy of his family the best he could in the 20th century. There wasn’t anything special about his character, or extremely evil, per se, besides the one time he set his house on fire. (Even that wasn’t purposefully being bad, just a little scheme to prevent his project partner from arriving to his house uninvited. Well, now that he thinks about it, maybe he _is_ evil, because the project partner had been his self-deemed enemy that Donghyuck didn’t want anything to do with.) So after he died, he didn’t expect anything, being nonreligious all his life. But becoming a direct minion of the King of Hell certainly wasn’t even on his mind when his life had drained away.

He’s not ungrateful, though, don’t get him wrong; being a demon had granted him immortality and a bunch of odd powers he could never find good use for in his never-ending life. Like being able to set a bouquet of flowers on fire with a snap of his fingers. (He didn’t mean to set anything on fire again, he just wanted to snap his fingers to the beat of the song he was playing.) He found a group of friends he loves beyond compare, so much that he would suffer the King’s favorite torture method of blasting country music through the streets of the city for. He makes enough money to buy whatever he could possibly want, which ranges from the 24 oz _World’s Best Dog_ mug he bought for Jeno’s “birthday” a couple years back, to that new fluffy rug he bought for his room last week. And the best of all, Hell keeps up with the trends and development of the human world, so Donghyuck has the privilege of living through the era of memes, iPhones, and a perfected recipe for avocado toast.

But in this moment, he hates that this is his life now. He’s free, but lives by the command of the Demon King and whichever dumb human who manages to find the instructions to summon a demon. It’s like jury duty, Donghyuck supposes. Is that even a thing in the human world anymore? He can’t quite remember, it’s been a while since he visited.

He prefers his base back home, his apartment in the outskirts of Hell’s capital city, close enough to the bustling stores and skyscrapers, far enough away to not get into any trouble with the inhabitants there. Though there may have been a time when he missed it up on earth, when he had first died at a ripe age of twenty, he realizes now how much it actually _sucks_.

People suck. Such as whichever dumb asshole summoned Donghyuck from his weekly brunch only to see him decked in all black with his pointed teeth still out, ready to bite into his food, and immediately scamper away, leaving him alone without a purpose or a way to get home, and hungry because he only got a single bite out of his avocado toast.

He’s left wandering the streets of an unknown town with a few gold coins that surely can’t be translated to human currency, so he has no food, no place to stay, and no way to get back to Hell.

At some point during his short training and initiation as a demon, Donghyuck had (maybe) heard of demon safe houses for those who were unknowingly summoned and forgotten. The chances of finding one was low, because normal people would _never_ harbor stray demons, but at this point, Donghyuck would try anything. It’s not like he can climb and break into a motel anyways. Does his magic even work here?

He continues to follow a road that turns from a single laned highway into a rural area, and it gets darker and darker as he walks. His stomach grumbles at missing another meal, and he can feel his lips cracking from the sudden change in humidity. Then, and this is the reason why Donghyuck never believed in a god, it begins to rain, as if the world doesn’t realize he is already suffering.

It had been the mortal world’s equivalent of autumn back in Hell, so Donghyuck, thankfully, had been dressed for cold weather, but the black sweatshirt he had on couldn’t protect him from being drenched in the rain. He knew he should have chosen the leather jacket. Demon intuition, and all.

The highway veers off into smaller roads, and the sky is absolutely dark, and Donghyuck had no source of light to guide him beside the dim red glow his body naturally emits. He walks, but he’s absolutely exhausted as well, and it’s more of just him dragging his legs around as graceful as he can.

A light attracts his gaze, and he finds a singular house— a mansion, actually— a short distance away. It’s gothic, with black metal plate details on the windows and door, the dark masonry stacked high. It must be at least three floors tall, with the height of the dark columns lining the front porch. 

_A demon hotel?_

Donghyuck shakes his head at the impossibility. But then again, what does he have to lose if he asks for a place to stay, at least for the night?

He knocks on the door a few times, and the stone gargoyles lining the pointed fence around him glares at the intruder. It makes Donghyuck a little nervous, even though he _is_ a demon who can’t die. Or he assumes. He’s never had the chance to test it out.

The heavy double doors creak open on its own accord, revealing a chandelier-lit foyer. Inside, the black marble floor serves as a contrast against the white columns framing the grand staircase. If he hadn’t known this was just a random house he stumbled upon in the human world, he would think it was property of the Demon King. 

A clank of metal against marble shakes Donghyuck out of his awe, and he blinks a few times at the source of the sound. Instead of an evil, one-eyed baroness in rich purple and black silks as he imagined, he sees a _boy_ , around his age, with a baggy shirt tucked haphazardly into jeans, and a pink apron splattered with stains hanging from his neck, a tray of cookies falling out of his mitten-clad hands. (The mittens match the apron, of course.)

“I wasn’t expecting visitors. Did my neighbor send you?” the boy says, dropping into a squat to pick up his tray. Thankfully, none of the cookies slid off. He takes another glance at Donghyuck’s drenched figure, and nearly tosses the tray again. “Dear Lord, you must be cold! I’ll start a fire for you.”

The boy walks back down the hallway he came from, and Donghyuck follows. The sweatshirt is sticking to his skin, his jeans clinging onto his legs like a lifeline, and it is certainly not a comfortable feeling. He’s used to the rain, but he’s never subjected himself to walk through it for several miles at a time.

When he reaches the living room, which is equally as grand as the foyer, with a sitting area filled with armchairs and sofas positioned in a semicircle around the fireplace, now glowing dimly as the boy pokes at the wood in there. There are dark purple silk curtains hanging on the tall windows, at least ten of them lined side by side. One of the windows seem to have a slight break in them, because one side of the curtain whips menacingly back and forth, and Donghyuck can hear the tapping of water against concrete and glass clearly, even though he’s relatively far away from the opening. It’s quite unfortunate that humans cede to demon stereotypes in media. Donghyuck isn’t really fond of this haunted mansion look. In all honesty, he would rather have found a smaller, cozier house with a spare room filled with plushies and pillows. He can’t really complain, though.

He takes a seat on the armchair nearest the fireplace, a chair with an insanely tall backrest, framed by detailed etchings in the dark walnut wood. When he senses a pair of eyes on him, he checks the boy, who’s still stoking the fire, and then up, to meet the glare of another carved gargoyle. Donghyuck flinches in on himself, drawing his legs up to his chest. The squelch of his boots makes him wince.

“Go ahead and take your shoes and jacket off. I’ll get you something fresh to wear,” the boy says, standing and clapping his hands together to get rid of the ashes. “Oh! I’m Jaemin, by the way.”

“Thank you, then, Jaemin.”

Donghyuck scans the living room again with Jaemin away, and he notices all the little things that kind of makes him think the owner of the house is some kind of occultist or something, because there are candles _everywhere._ The window sill all are lined with small disk candles, the tables and floors covered in multicolored ones varying in size some lit, some not. There’s some on the coffee table in front of him, and even on top of the fireplace. Donghyuck then realizes there are three light blue ones, a small, medium and large (as in reaching the height of his knee large), all alight right by his foot.

Demons aren’t scared of the supernatural. They’re the most powerful species of them, after all, but Donghyuck gets a chill that wracks his entire body from the vibe the house gives off. 

Jaemin pops back in with a fluffy lilac towel and some clothes bundled in his arm. “I don’t really have anything that matches your style, but I hope this will do.”

Donghyuck accepts the clothes and the towel, following Jaemin to the bathroom next to the dining room, a dark, gloomy place with a table long enough to fit at least twenty people and rusty metal candelabras spaced along the surface. 

The bathroom itself is quite beautiful, but in that same creepy way the rest of the mansion is. The mirror has a gold etched frame, something found in the Victorian-style homes back in Hell that’s quite popular amongst the older generation. The black marble of the floor matches that of the wall, everything black and gold. The only source of light is a small lamp hanging over the toilet, so Donghyuck is bathed in shadows.

Jaemin disappears to set up a room for Donghyuck for the night, and he’s alone, stripping the skinny jeans and sweatshirt off his body. The clothes on the counter are pastel, like Jaemin’s, a beacon against the black of the house. Donghyuck would rather be caught dead than be seen in the baby blue sweater, but it’s so soft against his skin that he could care less about what Renjun would think. Not like he’s here to judge him, anyways. 

He slips back out of the bathroom and finds his way back to the living room, but not before passing another set of realistic portrait paintings with eyes that follow him as he walks past. He shudders, until he sees a familiar face at the very end of the hall.

“Well, I’ll be damned, that’s Uncle Jaehyun,” he laughs to himself, staring up at the final painting at the end of the procession. The youthful face of the coffee shop owner in Hell smiles back at him, the infamous dimples carved into his pearly skin. Maybe this _is_ a demon sanctuary.

Jaemin’s sitting on one of the other armchairs when Donghyuck gets back, one with its black leather peeling back ever so slightly on the armrest, and a pair of thin circle glasses is perched precariously on his nose, an antique-looking book in his hands. Donghyuck isn’t surprised when he notices its yellowing pages, the edges frayed to look a little less perfect. And he’s even less surprised when Jaemin tells him it’s a copy of Dracula that he inherited from his grandmother, a family heirloom.

There’s a plate of cookies on the coffee table now, alongside two mugs, each topped with whipped cream and a metal straw.

“What’s with the straw?” Donghyuck asks, picking up a mug as he settles on the end of the sofa nearest to Jaemin. He takes a sip, something a bit sweet and a bit bitter on his tongue, which he guesses to be some sort of latte. And a hint of biting cinnamon. “Is this pumpkin spice?”

“Homemade! I grind my own spices for it,” Jaemin says. “As for the straw… Save the turtles?”

Donghyuck blinks. He’s never seen a real turtle before.

Jaemin shuts his book and places it on the coffee table, swapping it for his drink. “So, what brings you to my humble abode on such a stormy night?”

Hesitation grasps Donghyuck by the shoulders. He came in with the pretense that this was a safe center for stray demons like him, but with how clueless Jaemin seemed to be that a visitor was in his house, Donghyuck’s original thought may have been very, very incorrect. But what other explanation could he offer?

“Oh, let me guess.” Jaemin taps a finger on his chin. “You wear all black, wander around in the middle of the night. But you’re outfit isn’t really quirky enough to be a witch. And, no offense but—” Jaemin glances at him up and down. “You don’t seem like you’re rich enough to be a vampire.”

“ _Excuse you_.”

“I’m not wrong.” Jaemin retorts with a shit-eating grin. “You must be a demon. Spawn of Satan, all that jazz.”

“How did you—”

He leans forward to pick up the leather-bound he was reading before. “I’m working on ancient religious studies for school. But the things you find on the internet about the world of mages and shit is absolutely amazing these days! Did you know witches prefer hanging out in flower shops much more than they do in the woods? It surrounds them with life essence that helps with spells, apparently.” Jaemin gives the book an appreciative pat.

Donghyuck doesn’t think he’s met anyone with as much character as the boy in front of him. “So you know why I’m here...”

Jaemin juts out his lower lip and gives him an inquisitive look. “You’re demon senses were tingling and brought you here?”

“Er, sure.” Donghyuck takes a large gulp of his latte, and it doesn’t sear his tongue like he thought it would.

“So do you do magic and voodoo? I haven’t gotten to study demons much. I’ve been saving that for last, Grandma said it was her favorite,” Jaemin rants on, his eyes bright with interest.

“I mean, I suppose?” Donghyuck glances down at his hands, the usual red sparks nonexistent when he wiggles his fingers. “Not here though, this place messes with my abilities.”

Still, he snaps, and he’s able to conjure out a faint blue flame on his index finger, but it goes out in a millisecond.

“Super cool.” Jaemin stares at it in awe and snaps his gaze to Donghyuck. “Can I be a demon?”

“ _Absolutely not_.”

“Please?”

“No!” 

Jaemin pouts. “Well, I was talking to my resident witch next door, and she said I could just… Kill a demon to become one!”

“No, that’s not— Hold on.” Donghyuck pulls back the frustration and furrows his eyebrows at Jaemin. “How did you know?”

Jaemin puts on a confident grin that both of them know is fake. “I told you, I-”

“Talked to the witch next door. Right, I heard you the first time.” Donghyuck deflates a little. “Either that or you sell your soul. Neither is ideal.”

“Hey, I can take it!” Jaemin leans forwards and pinches Donghyuck’s cheeks, then pushes Donghyuck’s lips apart with his thumb, inspecting the baby fangs of his teeth. He never got them sharpened like some of the other demons, finding the short incisors rather cute on its own. But having Jaemin stare at his mouth so intently makes him blush a little. “Just imagine me being demonized. All the leather and eyeliner—”

“We don’t all wear eyeliner!”

Jaemin moves his hands to poke gently at Donghyuck’s eyelid. “Fine, _smoky eyes_ or whatever you all do. My point is, let me be a demon!”

“You don’t technically need my permission…”

Jaemin sits back again, and Donghyuck lets out huff. “But you’re a demon. So I need to sell my soul to _you_.”

Donghyuck scrunches his face, pursing his lips. “I’m not that powerful yet.”

“Oh.” Jaemin visibly deflates, the excitement in his eyes gone and flushed out of his system. “That’s a bummer.”

Something in Donghyuck squeezes his heart, and he sighs heavily. It must be the demon senses tingling, as Jaemin calls it. “Fine. I can take you to Hell to sell your soul or whatever. But I have to warn you, border immigration is really slow right now. There’s been too many deaths for Yangyang to keep up with, and I doubt he wants to fill in paperwork for a human visit. The whole dying thing is a simpler process.”

And with that, the excitement is back in Jaemin, a jolt of energy through his body. “Great! I’ll get packing!”

He sprints out of the living room and to the foyer, pouncing up the stairs. Donghyuck doesn’t even realize what he’s promised until Jaemin’s gone. Big Boss isn’t going to be too happy about this.

He focuses on the latte cooling in his hand. It’s quite refreshing, after all.

“Donghyuck, where have you fucking been- are you serious? You brought back a human? Hold on, is this your boyfriend—”

“Hyuck has a human boyfriend?” Jeno walks in, wiping his hands clean with a towel, the residue red and black, mysteriously resembling blood and motor oil. “I didn’t know you ever went up there before!”

“No, he’s not my boyfriend!” Donghyuck attempts to shake off the tight grip Jaemin had on his arm since they left his house, but he continues latching on, burying his face into Donghyuck’s neck instead. “Jaemin, you’re not helping my case!”

“Well, if you told me it would be this cold, I wouldn’t be like this!” Jaemin whines into his Donghyucks’s collar. “And, no, I’m not the boyfriend… Unless you want me to be?”

Donghyuck goes bright red when Jeno’s sharp laughter rings through the air. Renjun doesn’t move from his spot at the desk, only turning to quirk an eyebrow at the two.

“I like this guy. He’d fit right in. Making fun of Donghyuck is our favorite pastime.”

“Jaemin, please shut up for a second.” Donghyuck tries to pry Jaemin’s fingers off again to no avail, and gives up. “Someone accidentally summoned me and _this thing_ forced me to bring him here.”

“That’s so rude, I’m not a thing!” Jaemin straightens up and lets go of Donghyuck for the first time in the last hour. “I’m here to become a demon.”

This makes Renjun drop his pen and spin on his heel. Jeno stares at them with this _look_ on his face, as if that’s the craziest plan someone has ever proposed to him. (It’s not, considering Renjun’s current plan.)

“Are you sure?” Jeno starts hesitantly, watching the gears in Renjun’s head turn. Renjun himself glances between Jaemin and his blueprint on the table repeatedly, and after almost a minute, a smirk appears on his face.

“Oh, I don’t like that face he’s making…”

“Whatever you’re about to say, don’t.” Donghyuck grabs at Jaemin’s arm again, pulling him against his body and wraps his arm protectively around his shoulders. “No humans shall be harmed in this process.”

Renjun broods for a second, and then cocks his head towards the door to the storage room with murder in his eyes. Jeno sighs and drags his feet as he follows Renjun in. Donghyuck doesn’t like where this is going.

“Don’t touch anything. Or you might die.”

Jaemin side-eyes the giant machete leaning against the table. “Alright.”

Donghyuck doesn’t even get the chance to settle in their makeshift meeting from before Renjun launches into his tangent of thoughts. “He’s the missing piece to the plan. Everything will work if we use him!”

“He’s going to get killed. I don’t want that on my record,” Donghyuck argues back. “I brought him here to achieve his dream of being a demon, apparently, and the chances of him getting absolutely slaughtered is _way_ too high.”

“I agree, this isn’t logical,” Jeno tries, but Renjun narrows his eyes at him and he holds his arms up in surrender. “I mean— It’s a great idea. Perfect. Totally gonna work.”

“Think about it, Hyuck. He appeals to the king, pretending he’s here to sell his soul. His guard will be down because we haven’t had a human personally visit him in a long time, and he would never guess a poor helpless human would be harmful. Then, we ambush when the king’s the most vulnerable, and one of us kills him. It’ll _work_.”

“You sound insane. What makes you think he’d even be able to request a meeting—”

“Like I said, humans don’t come around often. He wouldn’t be able to resist a fresh human soul—”

A loud crash comes from outside the storage room, something sounding oddly like someone crashing into one of the many tables completely covered with blueprints and half-assembled machinery. 

“Oh, shit, did he break my vials?” Renjun grimaces when he hears glass hitting concrete. “There it goes. Damn, are all humans this clumsy?”

“Ha, maybe we shouldn’t have him go through with the plan then.” Donghyuck laughs nervously. “‘Cause he’s so clumsy… and all…”

Renjun blinks a few times. “The only trait that matters is his human-ness. Is that even a word?”

Jeno tuts out his lip to think, and then nods his head twice, before shaking it. “I don’t think so? I never finished school, I can’t be sure.”

Another yelp forces the three of them to pop open the door, at least to check up on the commotion. Jaemin, noticing the three pairs of eyes on him, drops the large iron axe in his hand and laces his hands together in front of him, as if he hadn’t just been caught wielding the weapon. He smiles innocently, just as the leg of another table collapses behind him.

Donghyuck quickly shuts the door. “Renjun, please say sike—”

There’s a shine of utter insanity crossing his face. “ _He’s in._ ”

The Demon King isn’t a good looking fellow. Actually, he’s far from it, with pinkish skin that makes him look like he’s always asphyxiating all the time, dark curly horns that are less menacing and more horned-sheep-like, and just a dreadful, dreadful nose bridge. Maybe that’s why he rules with tyranny, to make up the influence he could’ve had if his facial features were a little more pleasant. 

Jaemin isn’t even fazed when he walks down the red carpet leading to the throne, hands clasped in front of him. Donghyuck follows close behind, and he doesn’t know how Jaemin manages to look up into the eyes of the Demon King himself and not cringe himself to death. 

(Donghyuck nearly died again when he had to present himself to the king when he first arrived at Hell. Not fun.)

When they reach the throne, a fairly unamused Demon King, picking at his fingernails with distaste, ignores the two, even when Jaemin bows deeply. Donghyuck just offers a half mock curtsy. He lives on the edge that way.

“At ease, peasants.” The Demon King says, dropping his arm lazily on the armrest of the throne. He takes a whiff at the air, and suddenly, all eyes are on Jaemin. They can smell the life in him. “Oh, look who we have here. A mortal.”

Jaemin gulps, but then pastes on a bright smile. “Yup. And I’m here to sell my soul!”

“I wouldn’t say that with so much enthusiasm, kiddo,” Donghyuck mutters under his breath.

“Shut up,” Jaemin hisses through his teeth back, quiet, but the Demon King quirks an eyebrow at the two, and Jaemin throws the smile right back on.

“Sell your soul? We haven’t had anyone do that since _that_ one.” The King points at the apprentice advisor behind him, who had been trying to inch into the curtains framing the throne room. Once mentioned, the actual advisor grabbed for the young boy’s arm, pulling him back into the limelight. The apprentice winces.

“With all due respect, my Lord, it’s been nearly a hundred years since a human has offered their soul. Perhaps you would at least give him a chance?” Donghyuck states, formally, but he’s just trying his best not to laugh at the grimace Jisung is pulling, half-hidden behind his mentor. 

“I have a great soul!” Jaemin tries, but is met with sinister laughter. 

“I’m sure you have a heart of gold. Maybe you should reconsider. I don’t need any more demons as of now…”

“Sir—” The advisor interrupts. Donghyuck remembers the name of the advisor now. Mark, who had been here since Jesus died. “We’re running low, may I remind you.”

The Demon King’s blinks for a moment. “Well, I suppose—”

They’re cut off by the doors of the throne room bursting open, a feat considering how large and heavy they are, carved of iron, reaching two stories tall. Even Donghyuck turns in surprise at the sudden noise, though he knows exactly who and what it is.

Renjun and Jeno are both heavily armed, with the axes and swords of bronze and steel they have been crafting in the last few months. There's a small hoard behind them, all decked from head to toe in weaponry. The guards are nowhere to be found, thanks to Yangyang's distraction out by the river.

Donghyuck has to tackle Jaemin out of the way when the small army of demons sprint down the throne room and at the Demon King. A stray spear flies out of nowhere and lands at the foot of the throne, making him flinch, hopping over the throne to duck around the tall backrest. 

It doesn't take long for the guards to flood in as well, warned by the commotion. Then, there's chaotic fighting all around, and Donghyuck's sole purpose now is to protect Jaemin from it all. The rest of the demons have a nine lives rule down here, but if Jaemin dies, then he's done for.

They duck behind the nearest pillar, just as the clang of iron against iron echoes through the air. Donghyuck had expected Jaemin to at least be mildly fazed by the sounds of pained yells and screech of metals, but he simply sits down cross-legged and picks at his nail for a moment. Then he crumples, an elbow braced on his leg, and perches his chin on his palm. "You know, I kind of wish they let me fight."

Donghyuck settles next to him, flinching on the way down when a particular sound of crushing bones comes from behind his shoulder. He scoots closer to Jaemin to at least be hidden partially by the pillar. He deadpans, "You nearly destroyed half of our arsenal."

"I'm clumsy around workshops, but I'm good at fighting!"

"Sword fighting, I presume." Donghyuck laughs to himself at the joke, but stops when he notices the blank expression on Jaemin's face.

Jaemin blinks. "Yeah, how'd you know?"

A stray axe flies into the pillar, creating a long, jagged crack on the marble, and small chunks of stone falls on their head. Donghyuck attempts to shake off the marble dust from his hair, scowling as the white dust refuses to come out.

Jaemin turns slightly to peer around the pillar to observe the fighting for a moment. "What did the king do anyways? Besides being the Devil and all."

"Oh, Lord." Donghyuck pinches at the bridge of his nose as he recalls the past few decades he and his friends have suffered. "He made our lives a living Hell."

"Please tell me that was supposed to be sarcastic."

"Sure." Donghyuck stretches his legs out in front of him, and his knees crackle and pop a few times. "He's been leading for a while now, but he despises new, young demons. Seems to think we're all self-entitled or something, because he just fucks us over literally every day."

"Oh, so like the government and millennials."

"If that floats your boat." Donghyuck stares off into the distance, though he can only see to the wall of the room, which is not really that far away. Instead, he stares at the overdramatized painting of the late Demon King fighting off angels amidst a thunderstorm. “Renjun has wanted to launch a revolution for at least ten years now, but we never had the chance to get a decent distraction. Until you."

"I'm glad to be of use to you." Jaemin smiles, but there's a hint of bitterness to it, his words meant to be a joke. "Well, we should maybe try to help a little more."

"Nope. This is my job here." When Jaemin tries to stand, Donghyuck grabs his arm and forces him back down. "You stay protected and the world will all be good. They should be done soon."

"Uh, no they aren't. Jaemin pokes his head around and points at the fighting demons. There's at least ten of them on the ground in a sad, groaning heap. "We should really go help before the King escapes—"

"Oh, fuck. _That_."

"Did you do something—"

Renjun's plan had been beautifully fleshed out, built on over years of careful research and connections. But Donghyuck's forgetfulness might have cost them everything.

Donghyuck grimaces and jumps up, dusting off the marble crumbles from his pants quickly. He scuttles over the next pillar, the one closest to the throne. The last time he checked, the King was behind the throne...

And he is still there, crouching and sticking his head out every few seconds to survey the chaos. For some reason, none of the guards have bothered to go and check up on him. He should have really thought about replacing his security team instead of tripling the cost of rent in the new apartment buildings off the side of city center.

Donghyuck lets out a quick sigh of relief.

But then he groans again, realizing he had left his sword back in the bunker without strapping to his side like he was supposed to. Jeno had explicitly reminded him twice. He can still envision the long steel blade sitting open on the crafting table, taunting him in his memory. Goddammit.

"Hey, Jaemin, do you have anything that might kill a demon, by any chance—"

Donghyuck turns around, but the human is nowhere to be seen. He spins around again, glancing over his shoulder as if he would appear behind him, and still nothing. He honestly would have preferred actually fighting and risking another one of his demon lives over having to babysit.

"Jaemin?" he calls out, and there's no response. Of course, he doubts Jaemin could even hear his meager yell when there's a full-on battle just around the corner. Figures.

Maybe he should take things one step at a time, and kill the King first, then find Jaemin. He's sure the human can hold up by himself for at least a minute. As long as he ducks out of the way of any swinging swords and axes, he should be alright. Hopefully.

Donghyuck leans his body around the pillar again to analyze his attack route.

And lo and behold, Jaemin himself, crouching behind the throne with the King in front of him, offering a soft smile to him. His lips are moving, speaking, about what, Donghyuck could hardly guess.

Just as the Demon King gently closes his eyes and nods to take a slow breath, Jaemin reaches into his jacket pocket, pulling out a container of some sort. He pops open the lid, and dumps the contents of it over the King, who hisses as the particles touch his head and skin. 

The King reaches up to feel for the contents poured onto him, but as he picks a few grains off his head, it burns right through the skin of his fingertips, leaving a bright red scar. 

Jaemin takes the opportunity to pounce forward, a hand around the King's throat, pinning him to the back of the throne. He stuffs the container down his mouth, shaking it the best he can to get the last of its content out. The King gargles, choking and flailing his arms, but at last, he goes limp, and Jaemin lets go.

The Devil slumps to the floor in a heap, and his body disintegrates into a pile of fine, pink dust.

Jaemin frowns, staring at the empty glass container in his hand. "Dang, now I'm out of pink Himalayan salt."

Donghyuck's mouth had fallen open watching the chain of events occur in fast forward, and he realizes that though they've done exactly what Renjun had always wanted, to overthrow the Demon King, they never calculated the wild card. Renjun added a last-minute variable that he couldn't possibly control.

A gust of wind rushes through into the throne room, circulating the pink dust remains of the former king. It creates a small tornado that orbits Jaemin's legs, and gets bigger and bigger, until it swirls around his entire body. The fighting had stopped, stray weapons on the ground as the demons watch the phenomenon. 

Donghyuck doesn't remember his own transformation, as he had been unconscious through it all, his soul lost in the dreary fields, detached from his physical being. All he remembers is the burning sensation of his body being split into two, and then he woke up with tiny fangs for teeth and a newfound energy coursing through his veins. 

He had been in some deep coma through it all, and judging from the pain that came with recovery when he had been awake, he couldn't possibly imagine what Jaemin could be going through, manifesting the powers of a demon, of a Demon King.

This was not a good idea. 

"I told you we shouldn't have let him join."

"Oh, fuck off, no one could have known he was serial killer on earth."

"But he wasn't, though. I checked his records, and it's as clean as a bathtub."

"What kind of comparison is that?"

"A good one?"

"Can the two of you shut up for one godforsaken minute?"

"Did you forget we're demons? That curse doesn't actually mean anything—"

"He's awake."

Jaemin blinks once, twice, very, very slowly, and then several times in succession, until he finally stops. He sits up, and Jeno helps prop him up against the headboard of the bed. His pupils go red for a moment, glowing so bright that it consumes the bedroom in a sea of blood, and if it doesn't look like Jaemin’s about to commit genocide or something of that scale, Donghyuck would have found it rather cute. Like a little nightlight.

Jaemin then closes his eyes and presses a hand to his temple, grimacing. "I think I have a headache," he mumbles, and promptly collapses again, breathing back to a steady snore.

"Is it always like this?" Donghyuck asks.

Renjun pulls a face of uncertainty. "Not this severe, no. He's been out twice as long as most people."

"But he did take on the soul of a Demon King. And he was human." Jeno purses his lips. "I hope he doesn't die."

"Don't say that—" Donghyuck starts, but is interrupted when Jaemin jolts back awake in a flurry, breaths heavy as he doubles over, heaving for air.

The three of them jump forward to help, Renjun grabbing for a cup of water, Jeno holding his body up, and Donghyuck patting his back gently.

Renjun tips the water carefully into Jaemin’s mouth, and he drinks, slow, but then chokes and coughs it out erratically. A jet stream bursts out of his nostrils that evaporates into thin air.

"What the fuck—" Donghyuck jumps backwards as a lick of flame curls out of his mouth when he coughs. "Did he kill a dragon or something?"

"He doesn't know how to control the excess power yet, so it's all just coming out as fire, I think." Renjun helps Jaemin down the final drops of water, then scoots him back down to lie on the bed. "Plus, what's wrong with being a dragon?"

"He's going to set something on fire-"

The uncomfortable glance Jeno gives in the corner of Donghyuck's eyes makes him stop.

"What did you do while I was gone?"

Jeno laughs nervously. "Oh, you know. Same old, same old. Pounded some metal in that old inferno cave of ours. Dropped one on wood floor. Melted metal is really hot, did you know that?"

"He set my room on fire, didn't he," Donghyuck deadpans.

"I wouldn't say it was on fire, per se…”

As if on cue, they smell a whiff of smoke that definitely is not from the many times they've burnt popcorn in the microwave. Instead, it's the sheets of Donghyuck's bed, burning at the seams, right as Jaemin sleeps through it, his hands in the midst of the flame.

"We should invest in a fire extinguisher."

In theory, killing the Demon King takes quite the effort. The amount of magical power thriving under their skin, an endless well to draw from, is enough to wipe out entire human cities with a simple snap of the fingers. One stray demon trying to fight the Demon King would make no difference, and a group of demons shouldn't be able to just burst in and attack with such ease.

Either Renjun really is an amazing strategist, or the previous Demon King was just dumb.

Of course, there are outcries once the news traveled through the vasts of Hell. Some are glad for the tyranny to be over, with more freedom in their hands. Some are furious that the new king has absolutely no experience, as if he managed to kill Demon King on accident. (Which he did. They just don’t believe it.) The entire Council, for one, has been holding meetings in the restaurant down the street, looking to usurp Jaemin's throne. 

And Donghyuck can tell, Jaemin is absolutely terrified. 

They move some necessary belongings into the castle, they clear out the castle staff, and while Jaemin curls in on himself in the corner of his new home, of a freshly cleaned bedroom he's rather uncomfortable in, Renjun schemes even more, this time roping Mark and Jisung in, with their knowledge of the ins and outs of modern politics. Jeno goes out to help Yangyang manage the heavy influx of souls, and Donghyuck guards Jaemin. He sits at the desk in the opposite corner and does some idle work Renjun didn't have time to bother with, and watches Jaemin. 

A bodyguard, for the time being. He _does_ have a good ten years of karate training under his belt now, after all.

“Donghyuck, what do I do?” Jaemin says, three nights in, and he’s barely moved from his position in the corner of the room, back pressed against the walls as his arms hug his legs. His words are muffled as he speaks into his knees. “I don’t like being out of control.”

Jaemin’s skin has paled since he inherited the Demon King power. It’ll take another couple of days for his body to adjust to the transformations, but in the meantime, he’s sick, and he’s weak, and he could probably be killed with a quick punch across the jaw. Thankfully, Renjun has also increased the protection surrounding the castle, the sad souls acting as a highwire electric fence. Even demons hate interacting with the dead.

“We’ll take care of that. You just have to sit tight for a moment.”

“I don’t like not doing anything.”

Donghyuck blinks. “That’s all you’ve been doing for the past three days.”

“It’s been three days?”

Donghyuck stands from the desk and walks over to Jaemin, crouching down next to him. He pats a hand a Jaemin’s head, flattening down his hair, and smooths the strands back until his hand cups the back of Jaemin’s neck. “We should get you back to bed.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“You need to rest. And Renjun needs some more time to get things organized. You’re in good hands.”

“Why does it have to be me? I’m so scared, Donghyuck.”

Donghyuck has been expecting tears for a long time. He’s quite impressed that Jaemin has managed to hold himself together until now. He moves to kneel closer to Jaemin, and brushes a thumb over Jaemin’s cheek, and his tears are hot enough to burn.

“It’s you because that’s how the world destined it to be. And I know you aren’t cut out for it now, but you have us, even if we haven’t known you for long.” Donghyuck tries for a comforting smile, but he’s not sure how comforting it really is with the sharp fangs poking over his lips. “Trust us. Trust me, okay?”

Jaemin takes in a shaky breath, his eyes red from the tears that are beginning to sizzle off his cheek. Demons really are weird creatures.

“I trust you.”

Donghyuck leans forward and presses a soft kiss to Jaemin’s forehead, before urging him onto the bed. He tucks Jaemin in, and as he falls asleep, Donghyuck stays. It’s the best he can do for him as of now.

Renjun and Jeno clear up the whole politics thing temporarily, but definitely not smoothly. There’s still outbursts here or there, where the millennium-old demons riot to get the old Demon King’s soul back, to instill another one of those crusty council members in power over the king, because they seem to think Jaemin is incompetent. 

It’s not like the past kings weren’t incompetent when they took the throne. There’s a reason the last one died by the hands of a human and pink Himalayan salt.

But at least now, Jaemin can leave the protection of the castle without being pelted by rocks immediately. Who knew those boomers could chuck stones so well?

Donghyuck just tries his best to keep Jaemin as safe as he possibly could. There are souls and ghosts floating around everywhere that immediately launch at him when they sense his power. Donghyuck went out flashy today, a katana strapped to his waist over a new pair of black jeans. See, him begging Jeno to make a soul-slaying katana _did_ come to good use after all!

There are death threats coming from every corner, it feels like, and Donghyuck is really beginning to engage in the bodyguard job. He is also able to see the hatred around them settling in Jaemin’s bones as he shrinks in on himself and into Donghyuck’s shoulder more and more.

They’ve gotten attacked by random groups of gangsters twice just for walking down the sidewalk of the city in an attempt to show Jaemin around the shopping district. The first, Donghyuck had easily fought the demons back with his katana. The second, there were too many, and while Donghyuck tried to hold back as many as he could with his blade slipping out of sweaty, nervous hands, Jaemin had nearly imploded with unrestrained energy, sending all of them flying away when he bursted with fire, like a giant nuclear bomb. It had sent the demons smashing against the concrete and brick of the building walls.

It’s not healthy. Donghyuck knows this, he probably could have guessed it before noticing the way Jaemin’s body has drained of its original bright, bubbly personality.

“Renjun, he needs help.” Donghyuck lays his head down on the pillow he’s created with his arms, crossed on the table. For the first time in decades, he’s tired and in desperate need of a nice, long nap. Maybe a week of sleep would be able to get his energy back up. But he can’t afford that time, he has a new Demon King to care for, who has to come first.

“We’re doing the best we can with what we have.” Renjun doesn’t look up from his stack of documents. Instead, he leans over to his side and asks, “Yangyang, how’s public opinion?”

“Not good.” Yangyang points at something on his own tablet, and the two return to their quiet conversation that Donghyuck could care less about. Politics has never been his forte.

For now, Jeno temporarily takes over Donghyuck’s role as bodyguard. He had promised to keep Jaemin out of his room, too, pushing him down the winding staircases to the corner of the castle that supposedly had a gaming room.

Hopefully, that would do the trick for a couple of hours.

“Renjun, listen, we need to fix this.” Donghyuck sighs. “He’s not getting any better at this rate.”

Yangyang has a pitiful look on his face, dropping his manila folder to turn his attention to Donghyuck. “It’ll come around, eventually, but the politics here is rooted far deeper than we anticipated. There’s not much we can do besides wait.”

That only makes Donghyuck more stressed.

“Maybe you can find something for him to do that will help? Preferably something indoors?” Renjun suggests.

Donghyuck closes his eyes, allowing a moment of respite. When he lifts his head up, there’s a newfound determination in him. “I’ll try.”

Jaemin falls into another one of his existential bouts. It’s worrying to Donghyuck now, that he slips into his own little world so often, and he can’t blame it on the transformation anymore. There’s something more behind it. But still, all he can do is stay close to him, because he just doesn’t know how to approach it. 

At some point, Jaemin crawls into bed and makes grabby hands at Donghyuck to get him to join. He barely sits on the bed before Jaemin is tugging on the back of his shirt, pulling him close, to lie next to him. Jaemin wraps his arms around Donghyuck’s middle, tangles their legs together, and tucks his head under Donghyuck’s chin. And he takes his time to catch long, deep breaths. Donghyuck almost thought him to be asleep until he lets out a quiet whimper.

“Thank you for being with me,” he mumbles into Donghyuck’s shirt. “I’m glad it’s you who found me.”

“Of course.”

Jaemin tightens his arms around Donghyuck so that their bodies are pressed flush against each other. “I’m not sure where I would be if you hadn’t been there, that night.”

Donghyuck struggles to tilt himself back so he can get a better look at Jaemin’s face. He still can’t, because Jaemin has dug himself a little gopher hole in Donghyuck’s embrace.

“I was nearing one of my lowest lows. You kind of saved me.”

It doesn’t take Donghyuck too much to put two and two together. He’s seen far too many cases similar to Jaemin’s. Too many young souls wandering aimlessly around the fields.

“You _wanted_ to come here. You wanted to…” 

Jaemin offers a small smile, albeit sad. “I had only my grandma, and she had lived with me all my life until she passed away a few years ago. She was everything to me, and then I just suddenly had nothing except for this decrepit house on the side of a highway with no passion to get me to want to live. There was no reason for me to do anything.”

Donghyuck carefully takes ahold of one of Jaemin’s hands between their chests, which is shaking. He then realizes Jaemin’s arm and his shoulders, his body is shaking from his heavy sobs. 

“I didn’t have a purpose. There was nothing for me, and I had just wanted to lose myself in something and never go back to the real world,” Jaemin sniffles, and they turn into cries, interrupted by short intakes of breaths every few words. Donghyuck squeezes his hand tighter. “I don’t even know how I managed to hold myself together for so long.”

“Because you’re strong. You have your grandma in you, even though she’s gone. And you have passion, and love, and that’s what you held onto.” Donghyuck brings Jaemin’s hand to his heart in earnest, putting it flat against his chest. “And that’s what gave you to opportunity for this… better life here.”

There’s a moment of silence, where Jaemin just breathes, and that’s enough to ground him.

“Do you know if she’s still here?” There’s a hint of hope lingering behind Jaemin’s dim eyes. “Or did she… Go up? Or down? How does this thing work?”

“We have a lot to teach you, Demon King,” Donghyuck laughs quietly, “And I bet we can find her. Sounds like she wouldn’t kick the bucket and leave that easily.”

“No, she really wouldn’t.” Jaemin looks down for a moment, and when he lifts his head back up, there’s confidence in his gaze. “We’ll find her. And I’ll figure this whole Demon King thing out, as long as you’re by my side.”

There isn’t a single drop of doubt in his voice when he replies, “I don’t doubt it.”

Donghyuck doesn’t have an affinity to go visit the Archives. In fact, it’s a place he avoids at all costs. It’s a grim reminder of his past, of the past of his friends, and the past of everyone left here in Hell. There’s a reason they’re all here, and he wants to forget why. Live in the moment, and all that.

But for Jaemin’s sake, he’ll pay it a visit.

It doesn’t take long to find his Grandmother’s name. Mark keeps the Archives so well organized that every speck of dust that accumulates is documented within the minute it’s formed. 

(Poor Jisung has to learn everything he does from that guy. Donghyuck wonders how Jisung hasn’t died a second time yet. Or maybe he has, he should check on that.)

Donghyuck pulls on the cardboard box labeled with Jaemin’s last name and flicks through each of the manila folders carefully. The Na family’s folders are all stored with each other, and it makes Donghyuck’s heart ache reading the names of Jaemin’s immediate family on its tabs. He skips past those until he finds Jaemin’s grandmother, taking it out carefully.

“You found it?” Jaemin hooks his chin over Donghyuck’s shoulder to analyze the contents of the folder.

“Yeah.” Donghyuck scans the personal details until he reaches the box titled, _Occupation (Hell)._

“Seriously? An ice cream parlor?” Jaemin scoffs. “She hated the cold. And ice cream. _And_ she never had too strong of a wrist. Why on earth would they assign her there?”

“Who knows? It’s practically Russian Roulette when job assignments are passed out.” Donghyuck closes the folder and slides it back to its rightful place. “You’re the Demon King now. If she wants to move, you can change it with a snap of your fingers.”

“Oh. Nice.” Jaemin snaps his fingers once for fun, but a small flame appears on the tip of his index finger and he yelps. “Jesus Christ, I need help with these powers!”

“Jesus Christ can’t really help you here.” Donghyuck smiles at his joke to receive a slap across the back of the head. The flame flickers away a moment later.

“Shut up. Let’s go find my grandma.”

Donghyuck would like to say that the reason he’s holding Jaemin’s hands is so that he wouldn’t get lost in the crowds of people in the city center, and so he could guide him to the ice cream parlor. But he can’t say that, because, one, there are no crowds in the city center, and two, the directory signs are clear as day, and Jaemin is practically the one leading Donghyuck with how he’s bustling with excitement.

Jaemin is very warm, though, a side effect of the newly manifested power, as well as his eagerness, so Donghyuck can’t complain. 

They find the ice cream parlor with ease, and when Jaemin pushes the door open, there’s a little jingle of the bell, welcoming the customers. The parlor is decorated like a 1990’s diner, with black and white checkered floors and vibrantly colored booths, as well as a neon sign behind the counter spelling the shop name _._

“Welcome to Hellish Creamery, how may I help you?”

Donghyuck sees Jaemin’s eyes light up a bright vivid orange. 

The lady at the counter is definitely not what Donghyuck had expected. Rather than a gray, curly haired woman in a floral dress and friendly wrinkles from smiling as she aged, he’s met with a bright white bob clipped into a french twist, pulling her facial features back, sharp as an eagle. She dons a leather jacket studded with silver spikes all along the seams, her face painted with dramatic makeup to accentuate her features. But she has the same tapered chin as Jaemin, the same, wide, glowing eyes, the resemblance clear to him now.

“Grandma!”

The lady blinks for a moment, until she finally registers her grandson throwing his arms around her over the register. The recognition lights up in her, and she gently scoots her way out of the counter to fully pull Jaemin into a tight embrace.

She pats Jaemin’s hair down as he begins to shake from his sobs, slouching down to bury his face into the leather of his grandmother’s jacket, and Donghyuck is pretty sure there are some spikes there too, but it couldn’t have possibly bothered him. Those are happy tears, he hoped. 

“Nana, what’s wrong?” his grandmother says when he finally pulls away, and she dabs at his cheeks her wrinkled hands. One glance at the unnatural amber glow of his eyes, reflecting his anguish and fear, and she knows. “You _didn’t._ ”

“I had to, Grandma.” Jaemin fights to put a small smile on his face. “There was always the chance that you would be here. I had to take it.”

“Not by becoming the Demon King!”

Thankfully, there were no other customers in the parlor to overhear Jaemin’s grandmother’s excessively loud exclamation. She whacks Jaemin on the side of the head playfully.

“You could have just become a regular demon. That’s a bit less… What do kids these days say? Extra, is it?”

Jaemin nods a few times, slow, and his smile turns sheepish.

Donghyuck clears his throat. “I’m sorry ma’am. It was our fault that he… did this.”

“Oh, it’s no big deal. Nana’s always been one for the dramatics.” Her eyes crinkle as she smiles proudly at her grandson. “Though taking on the highest power in government when one is _barely_ done with college coursework is hardly acceptable. Tell me, Nana, did you choose to do this because you didn’t want to finish school?”

“Uhm...”

He receives another whack to the head, and he yelps. His grandma sends Donghyuck a bright but mischievous smile. “Dear, what flavor ice cream would you like today? On the house!”

Donghyuck is glad that he gets to lay back and lounge around in sweats and a hoodie again, without having to dress up to leave. That’s far too much of a hassle to deal with, especially when he has one to deal with one a daily basis for eternity from now on.

“I want to learn how to do, like, _everything_.” Jaemin says, his hands gesturing the outline of a giant oval, as if that somehow constitutes the word “everything.” He’s practically bouncing off of the couch opposite of Donghyuck.

Donghyuck frowns, pulling his head further back into his hood. He really doesn’t feel like moving. “You can do that yourself, right?”

“Nope.”

“Do you really have the time to learn everything _right now_?” Donghyuck tries to resist Jaemin pulling him out of his perfectly comfortable position in his couch crease, sagging his body to make it as difficult as possible. “I’m lazy! Stop bothering me!”

Jaemin continues tugging on his wrists until he reluctantly sits up. “Come on, let’s go out and do something. Grandma wants to see me in a couple hours anyways.”

Donghyuck crinkles his nose in protest. “Don’t you have kingly duties to get to?”

“Not really.”

Donghyuck rolls his eyes and attempts to retreat into his hoodie-blanket-sofa pillow fort again. “Why does Renjun let you do this?”

“Because he knows he can do the job a million times better than me. I’m just a figurehead.” Jaemin says it with such nonchalance that it mildly worries Donghyuck. “I live a good life, now.”

“Clearly.”

“Oh, come _on_.” Jaemin uses his entire weight to pull Donghyuck off the couch, finally, and he nearly falls on his face, but Jaemin’s hands are just as quick to catch his shoulders. 

Donghyuck scowls. He really, really, _really_ doesn’t want to go outside.

“Hyuckie, please?” Jaemin props his hands on Donghyuck’s knees, pressing his weight forward so he can lean closer, nose to nose with Donghyuck. “You can’t say no to me now, can you?”

“It’s been like, five years, I’ve learned to say no to you by year one.” Donghyuck wrinkles his nose when Jaemin tries to rub his head against his cheek. The pink strands feel rather rough against his skin. Maybe they should go visit the salon soon. Chenle would be delighted to paint Jaemin’s hair back to his favorite blood red. 

(“I like it when the dye makes my gloves red,” Chenle exclaims, rubbing his white rubber gloves together, spreading its contents around his palm. “Makes me feel like a murderer.”

He goes back to smearing the dye all over Jaemin’s roots.

“Tell me again, why did we decide he should open a barbershop when all those sharp scissors are of easy access for him?”)

“But Grandma wants to see you!” Jaemin just puts his lips in an angry duck face. “She says you haven’t visited in a while.”

Now, Donghyuck couldn’t say no to Grandma Na, could he?

Instead, he wraps his arm around Jaemin’s waist, and pulls him against his chest, falling back against the couch again. Donghyuck buries his face into Jaemin’s neck and presses soft kisses against his skin. “We’ll go, but not right now.”

Jaemin struggles a bit in his embrace, twisting around to try and force Donghyuck’s arms off him. He whines, “No, we need to go right now!”

Donghyuck places another kiss on the spot where Jaemin’s neck meets his jaw, soft and tender, and Jaemin relaxes into Donghyuck’s embrace with a sigh.

“We have another couple of thousands of years to go learn everything. Just let me sit on the couch for an extra hour, will you?”

And Donghyuck loves this, loves bundling himself up after a long day and hold the boy he loves close against his chest, and loves kissing the living daylights out of him just because he can. He loves that this can be his forever.

Jaemin lifts his knees and curls himself up against Donghyuck’s chest, twisting around to brace his arms on Donghyuck’s shoulders again, and leans in, foreheads against each others.

“I suppose we do.”

He kisses Donghyuck, once, twice, and there are a million more times to go from then on.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/johnshuaa)  
> [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/johnshuaa)


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